


All Wrapped Up

by BeastFeast87



Series: Making The Guildmarm Proud (420 No Gjinka) [5]
Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Ball Inflation, Begging, Big Balls, Body Modification, Bondage, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Cock & Ball Torture, Dacryphilia, Drug Induced Hallucinations, Drugged Sex, F/M, Femdom, Forced Orgasm, Hallucinations, Interspecies Sex, Kinda, Monster sex, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Oviposition, Prostate Milking, Rape/Non-con Elements, Size Difference, Sounding, Spider Sex, Teratophilia, Vaginal Sex, i guess?? i mean nerscylla IS a lady spider in this...., kinda? idk, she's layin eggs in his balls lads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeastFeast87/pseuds/BeastFeast87
Summary: The caravan hunter is woefully unprepared to fight the Nerscylla, and ends up taking home some... souvenirs.*Quick note to anyone who's read from this series before:  This is a little different than the others in that this one is VERY MUCH NOT CONSENSUAL!  It does touch a bit on rape trauma near the end, so if thats sensitive for you or squicks you, then don't read!
Relationships: Nerscylla/Hunter
Series: Making The Guildmarm Proud (420 No Gjinka) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/982905
Comments: 5
Kudos: 96





	All Wrapped Up

**Author's Note:**

> Nerscylla is probably one of my favorite monsters in all of MH. She's very cool and unique, and I hope they bring her shrouded to MHW, even if it's unlikely. Her armor is some of my favorite as well, with the cool cape and pauldrons.

The Hunter gasps, the blow to his chest stealing all of his breath from him. Sticky web strung around him from the hit. He was weak, woozy with poison in his veins, and sweat formed on his brow feverishly. He had barely begun the fight and was woefully unprepared. He should have listened to the others. He should have stayed home.

“No…” he wails weakly, tugging in a surely pitiful manner at the webbing. He feels helpless; weak and sick with poison and arousal. “Please… Please stop…”

The temnoceran does not, in fact, stop. Instead, she weaves faster, binding his calves backward to his thighs, spreading them open for herself. He’s twisted and turned by her legs, his arms bound straight and together behind himself, and is soon picked up with her pedipalp, and stuck to her web. 

The Hunter’s head lolls, drool dripping. His body is hot, feverish and clammy with sweat, and his eyes blink slow and blearily. His vision swims, the blinking sharpening and blurring it at intervals. The shadow spider lowers herself, satisfied, over him, dexterously undoing his armor with precision he didn’t know was possible.  _ She’s done this before, _ he thinks with terror. His coil falls open on his hips, still stuck under him to the web, and bares his nethers to her. He’s shamefully rigid, the cool of the air drawing a tenuous gasp from his supine body.

_ She’s done this before, _ he thinks again to himself, whining aloud. He’s not sure how loud he is. It  _ feels _ loud, sounds loud, but every hair and follicle on his body feels like it’s sensitivity has been cranked to the highest limits. He feels himself spiraling, every sensation all too much. His armor is pulled away from him as easily as if she were peeling a fruit and he was about to be devoured in a single, juicy bite. He wonders who else could have been captured by this monster; if they were as terrified as he was, or even more frightening the thought, that they had instigated it. Had wanted this.

It was too frightening a thought for his drug-addled brain to wonder at.

Thin spines and grips on the back of haired legs scratched at his skin, raising red welts that ooze pale lavender in the soft rays of early morning.  _ It’s poison, _ his brain supplies, unhelpfully. Sparks of arousal flood him further, the spurs on her legs quickening his need and exacerbating the escalating problem that grows rigid between his thighs.

Slowly, the Nerscylla settles over him, huddling with her legs defensively around them, sheltering him. His head turns uselessly, side to side, vision swimming with nauseating arousal. Looking down, he spies a small pair of strange leg-like structures at the base of the monster’s abdomen. They tug at his smallclothes, pulling his hard cock free of its confines and he sobs openly, tears wet and hot sliding down his face, terror bitter on his tongue. Methodically, a long, fleshy sort of structure slides down from one of a pair of flaps. It’s long and thin and horror grips him around the throat like an enemy when it wetly nudges his hole.

“No,” he begs but comes as a whisper. The monster heeds no mind, anyhow and clicks the long fangs at the end of her chelicera. He supposes his words must be as useless to her as her clicks are to him. Still, he cries between tears and hiccuping sobs hopeless words of reprieve. “No,” he cries, “No, please, I can’t- I can’t-”

She ignores him. He tries to tighten, to refuse her entry, but all he manages is a lax, dizzy twitch that only has his cock flag a moment. Drool drips down his chin, making a lazy trail down his throat. The Nerscylla chirps, pleased, and her appendage slips in easily. It’s barely as thick as a finger, but slides expertly up against his oversensitized insides and has him gasping, cock dripping with precum in the chilled dawn air.

The strange legs that dropped from her abdomen grasp around his cock and he lets out a long, useless wail of protest before he is methodically slid into her vent. The hunter cries out, overstimulation gripping him as he comes undone inside the temnoceran, whimpering and sobbing. She’s wet and warm, strange bumps insider her moving and stroking him with a tight grip that could rival any of his experiences. It doesn’t even occur to him to be ashamed as the appendage inside him strokes over a soft, sensitive part inside him that has him shuddering longer than he ever has. He twists and turns in the coils uselessly still, but now instinctually caught between pulling away from the stimulation, fucking himself back on the pleasure inside him, or fucking into the wet warmth of her vent.

The Hunter’s mind blurs and twists, moaning wordlessly into the chill of the morning air, twitching as his hips attempt to breed himself into her. He doesn’t know what the appendage is, or what the hole is that he's inside; he can barely remember himself. All he knows is that the hole he’s inside is warm and tight, ripe for fucking and is overwhelmed with the urge to breed her. He wants to fuck until he’s emptied himself inside her completely, and judging by the petting of his prostate, he will.

She doesn’t allow him movement still, though his eyes roll back in his skull as his hips twitch in an attempt to fuck her, and instead the shadow spider presses down on him to the root of his cock. Her insides flex and undulate in waves around him, strange round protrusions on her walls stroking his length as the appendage inside him strokes with robotic urgency at his prostate.

His orgasm never stops but seems to just come in waves of intensity. He can feel himself draining into the beastly spider at a constant, pumping into her. His balls draw tight again as the appendage bullies his prostate again, sparks of light blinding him with overwhelming pleasure once again as he breeds himself wetly into her dripping vent. He moans aloud, no longer frightened though just as weak, the need for escape finally overridden by the temnoceran’s aphrodisiac.

The Hunter turns his head weakly in place, looking down as the Nerscyllas’ spurs prick him, dizzy and moaning. How many times has he come undone? It feels like hours, maybe days since he’s been stuck, his weeping cock continually pumping his seed into her vent. He finds himself looking down as she adjusts, watching creamy white drip from the trap. Weakly, his hips stutter, cumming with a soft tremble once again into the monster. Only clear fluid leaves him and at last, he feels himself soften inside. Tears stream down his face as the harsh rubbing and bullying of his insides and cock turns soft and coaxing. The Hunter feels himself twitch fraily inside the vent, orgasm escalating once again with a raw, soundless gasp from his dry throat. Nothing leaves his spent, soft dick, finally milked dry though arousal still spins through his veins fine as spider silk.

For a moment he thinks he sees her form crawling with small, tiny spiders, as if this Nerscylla was made of hundreds of thousands of smaller ones. He grins, high on arousal and poison and coos wordlessly at them. He thinks one drops into his mouth and crawls down his throat. That’s nice. Now he won’t ever be alone again. A gift from her, as thanks for breeding her so full.

He slides out of her wet trap with a wet, lewd sound and grins, eyes open and sightless and staring at the base of her sternum above him. This is so excellent. Why did he ever try to escape? All of him is light and airy and hot, sweaty gooseflesh rising in the chilly air.

The appendage slides from him as well, his prostate swollen and hot from the abuse now getting a much-needed reprieve from the constant petting. It does not, however, leave entirely. The Hunter moans quietly with a rasp from his raw throat as the prehensile legs drop again and wrap around his soft, wet cock. They stroke him, the fine hairs prickly and despite being completely spent, he twitches though does not harden. His hips tremble, the thin tendril-like appendage twisting against his soft cock. 

He feels the spiders running along the silk in his veins, strumming his muscles like the strings of a puppet forced to dance and grins at nothing. Closing his eyes, he can see spiderwebs behind them, the tiny spiders in his blood and muscles and skull wrapping his head in cobwebs. He’s so nice and safe here, with her and their little spiders. He opens his eyes and still sees the strings of silk over his vision, watching as her tendril strokes against him, nudging the slit at the tip of his soft cock with it. He moans, knowing he has nothing left to give, and feels a spider leave his body through his tear duct and enter him again through his ear. Another crawls up his throat and out his mouth, crawling between his teeth and then making it’s lazy, loving way back down his mouth and throat. He moans around it, feeling safe and loved as the temnoceran slips her thin appendage into his soft cock through the small opening.

It’s like nothing he’s ever felt. She fucks it into him gently, probing, sliding in further and sliding out. Two steps forward and one back. She’s being so much gentler with him now that he’s stopped trying to wriggle away. The Hunter blinks, watching with dizzy interest and grins, teeth covered in silk and lungs breathing air that beats the cobwebs filling them. She slides so deep into him, slipping in to the root of his cock painlessly. Light shivers of pleasure trickle in, trailing along the silk in his blood.

Finally, she reaches the end, as deep as she can go, and stills, fucked into the root of his soft cock. The Hunter stares down at their joining, blissfully high and head full of cobwebs and sighs lovingly, watching with adoration. He gasps with delight, feeling the appendage thicken in pulses, widening and then shrinking in waves. It’s elating; a delightful stretch from the inside that he didn’t know was possible. His cock feels full, only getting fuller, and his entire body is warm with it. Warm with the silk of their coupling, with the safety she’s spun for him.

Finally, she seems satisfied with how wide she’s spread him and he sighs with satisfaction. If The Hunter could stay here like this forever, wrapped in silk with cobwebs in his brain, he’d be just fine with that. He watches lazily down at his filled, soft cock as small, round beads make their way down the tendril. Soon, he feels them at the head of his cock, prodding and pushing. He grins and watches, purring, as they slip into his shaft and feels them trickle down like droplets of dew down a blade of grass.

The experience is nothing short of divine. They trail down, each push of a bead into him making their busy way down his shaft is heavenly and filling. The Nerscylla’s tendril pulses with each push. Each time he thinks he is full, and each time he is delightfully proven wrong. They pool, with a slow, heavy tightness, in the base of his cock and then his testicles. They feel swollen, inflamed with pleasure, and soon grow heavier and heavier with each bead. His own cum drips from her vent, coating his cock in his spent release. It trails down his soft cock to his swelling balls and finally drips to her silky soft, safe web that cradles them.

The hunter laughs dizzily and can’t stop. His head tilts back and feels himself cum dry around the tendril, around her precious pearls and jewels she drips into him with pride. Spiders stream from his eyes and down his cheeks, the spider silk tickling and oddly wet. It’s ecstasy, pleasure streaming through him with each crawling pearl that purrs through his cock.

She fills him properly, pressing and pushing with pulses her pearls,  _ her eggs, _ he realizes, dripping into his body like he was meant to hold them his entire life and never knew until now. His balls hang, swollen and full but still getting fuller by the moment.

And then all at once, it ends. The eggs stop suddenly, the last egg crawling with a shudder from the monster’s tendril. A rush of fluid rushes from her, gushing past his lax cock hole and drools like orgasm from him.

The Hunter grins, eyes rolling back in his skull and watches the spiders coat his eyes in cobweb as the world goes blissful white.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The Hunter wasn’t expecting to wake up.

He blinks, the night dark and empty. Every muscle is sore and he is tired. So tired.

He looks blankly down at his form and sighs.

He’s cried himself out and has nothing left to give.

It feels like hours, thought The Hunter knows it was only a minute, that he stares at the ceiling of the dirt cave. Fumbling, with poison numbed fingers, he reaches for his knife in his boot. It’s a stretch, but with his feeling in his hands and dexterity slowly returning, he feels for it and grasps around it. He sighs in relief, wrapping around it.

He can barely remember how he cuts himself free. It’s a miracle he was sentient enough to grab and retie his coil and armor, slowly limping away with sore nethers and a whimper in his throat that never quite escapes.

Every bump from the Felyne’s coach home is torture.

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


When he gets home, he immediately locks himself inside, only slipping a note under the door to his room to the courier Felyne to notify the Street Cook to send a Felyne to bring him supper with sickness as an excuse. He sleeps for an entire day and wakes to dinner outside his door.

He eats ravenously, not having eaten since the day before and looks numbly down at himself. He bites his lip, tears threatening to spill as he sits on the edge of his chair. He’s showing through the crotch of his pants and he isn’t even hard.

The tears spill finally, and he cries silently, dripping onto his pants. What the fuck is he going to  _ do?! _ There’s not exactly a medical team here for  _ this _ and he’s way too scared to tell the research department, fearing becoming an experiment himself. How could he even let this happen to himself? The knife was  _ right there _ and he was just too stupid high and horny to get himself free.

Slowly, The Hunter gathers himself, staring at the floor with newfound determination.

He can get through this. He just has to get them  _ out. _

He gathers up his massive, empty soup bowl and lays it on the floor and grabs a pillow from his bed. Slowly, he tugs his pants down with eyes clenched shut and eases his tired muscles down to rest on the plush surface, arranging himself and the bowl until it sits under his front.

Gathering his willpower, he opens his eyes to look to himself where he’s been avoiding.

The Hunter sits back on his heels, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. He blinks rapidly, trying to will them away and stares, hand hesitantly holding himself, now so changed from his experience. His balls are swollen, red and heavy, and are so distended that one fills his entire palm. He uses both hands, cupping each one and tries a gentle, hesitant squeeze and nearly screams. His mouth drops open in a silent cry and his body shakes with feeling. It was intense and flooding, the overfilled flesh sensitive and hot. He tightens his grip on them instinctively in his palms and whimpers, feeling the eggs roll and rub against him from the inside, sliding against the oversensitive walls. If he tries hard, he can feel the pearls with his fingers through the stretched, thin skin of his testicles.

He whimpers and wills his hands away with shame, feeling and stroking at his tender cock instead. He’s still soft, though twitching weakly, and fingers at his slit. It looks more like a proper hole now, and gapes, drooling clear fluid though it does not give up any eggs. Maybe he can just…?

He slips a fingertip in easily and moans helplessly, the back of his hand coming to his mouth to muffle himself. He takes a deep breath, and slides in further, whimpering weakly. Sparks of pleasure quickly spark, stirring him against his will. “This is so fucked up,” he mutters to himself, equally amazed and horrified as his cock opens with ease and swallows his finger down to his hand. He feels himself twitch around his finger and it’s such an alien yet arousing feeling he shudders, whimpering as his head tips back and hips cant slightly.

He can’t help himself. He fucks his finger into his gaping slit, the clear fluid drooling from his soft cock. He’s never been more aroused, yet so soft. The scrape of his nail has him shivering, wailing quietly to the walls of his caravan. Still, no eggs come.

“Please,” he whispers, tears dripping into the bowl as he fingers his soft cock, “Please just get the fuck out of me. I can’t fucking do this, I just fucking  _ can’t _ ”.

The drag of his finger against the inside of his cock is torturously arousing. The Hunter desperately feels the knot of arousal tightening in his gut but it refuses to unspool, leaving him sobbing quietly as he rocks his hips, fucking his cock on his finger. He shivers, trying to force himself to calm, and pulls his finger from his cock with a shaking hand. It falls limply, drooling more precum into the bowl as he strokes himself.

Swallowing, he reaches behind himself slowly, sticking his precum-slick finger into his asshole. It’s not tender in there, surprisingly, until he feels for his prostate. He gasps, shaking as his fingertip brushes over the swollen gland, petting as carefully as he can against the tenderness there. Arousal boils in his gut, threatening orgasm, but all that comes is a slight increase in the clear fluid and a weak jerk from his still limp dick. Desperately, he presses a second finger inside, nudging and petting as he rides his fingers. His other hand grasps desperately around his cock shaft, urging the soft meat to harden though it only drools uselessly and twitches occasionally. 

He palms at his balls, rolling and squeezing at intervals and whines aloud to himself, sobbing with pleasure. His whimpers escalate with dismay as he still finds he cannot find release, torturing himself by fucking his useless, soft cock into his hand and rocking his hips back onto his fingers. It’s agony, being denied. He slips his thick thumb into the slit, stretching it wider still and cries, ass tightening as he rests on the precipice. He stays there, fingers thrusting at his prostate, trying desperately to nudge himself over, fucking his fingers and hand wildly, trying anything to get himself to finish.

He can’t. He keeps trying but it never comes, and he falls forward over the bowl and rests his cheek on the wood floor and sobs loudly, uncaring who hears. “Please!” he cries, nearly wailing. “Please, please, please, please! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-” he mumbles aloud through hiccuping sobs, writhing as he stuffs a third finger inside to assist and bullies his swollen prostate. His balls hang heavy beneath him, full and ungiving. His thumb is pulled free and he tries again to fuck his fist when he feels his balls tighten slightly before relaxing and tightening again.

Clear fluid drools faster, and though the feeling of pleasure is intense, it isn’t orgasm and The Hunter sobs, slowly pulling himself back up. He watches as clear fluid rushes from him, dragging along the sensitive walls of his urethra when his breath hitches at a familiar feeling.

There’s a slight, slick drag on something round beginning at the base of his cock.

Progress now seen, he eagerly fucks back on his hand and into his fist, coaxing the pearl along his soft, twitching shaft as his balls tighten. They clench and relax intermittently, and he’s again stuck by the size they’ve swelled to. Will they even go back to their original size? The thought is terrifying and arousing, their massive swell as they slap his palm all the more prominent with each push they make against the beads that slowly travel down his shaft to the bowl.

The first egg escapes with a gentle drip and a gush of fluid. It drools down from the string of slick connecting him to the half-full bowl, drifting down to rest in the liquid like a leaf to a pond.

_ Or a spider along silk to the floor. _

The thought is immediately pushed away, forcing his thoughts to pleasure. The Hunter gasps with each pulse of his swollen balls that push the eggs back up and out through his cock. His skin shines with a sheen of sweat and it drips a bit into his eyes as he grunts, humping his hand like an animal, chasing orgasm like he may die if he does not.

He stops stroking a moment and focuses on pressuring his prostate, petting the swollen gland and squeezes his balls. They’re feeling less swollen, though no less oversensitive and no less big, though they definitely have less eggs in them, if the dizzying amount of them growing in the bowl is anything to go by. They absolutely will never be the same, and he moans. He wonders if he’ll be able to stick his finger down his slit until the day he dies. He shakes, whining with pleasure as he feels his balls tighten around the eggs as three slip free in succession into the bowl.

Slowly, he feels the knot in his gut tighten further, the eggs almost drained from him. “Yes, yes, yes, yes-” he chants, canting his hips desperately, his tired muscles screaming from the strain. He bounces on his fingers desperately watching as the eggs leave him. Finally, the last egg slips free and with a rush, the world goes white. He might have screamed, thinks he did, but doesn’t care because at last a weak spurt of white  _ (not clear!)  _ tumbles out of his cock that twitches and jerks but never hardens. In the back of The Hunter’s mind, he wonders if he will ever get hard again or if it will stay soft like his balls seem to have kept their enlarged size.

Eyes dewed with tears, he looks down at the bowl, filled with lavender eggs and topped with white cream. Shivering, and suddenly cold with clammy sweat, The Hunter wonders what to do with the expelled eggs and whether he will ever be able to look the Cook in the eye again.

**Author's Note:**

> I kept getting really annoyed bc I could not find ANY porn where a guy gets eggs laid in his balls which felt really weird bc that seems like something that should be really popular right??? Anyways, hopefully this inspires some of yall to make some and if u have links, drop em.
> 
> also, i could use some money so if u would like to support me, my ko-fi is https://ko-fi.com/beastfeast
> 
> thanks for the support! <3


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